


Cupcakes

by procrastination_nation_citizen39722



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 10:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastination_nation_citizen39722/pseuds/procrastination_nation_citizen39722
Summary: Wrote this last year to celebrate Annabeth's birthday.





	Cupcakes

**Author's Note:**

> I had originally posted this on my tumblrs justpercyjacksonthings and son-of-poseidone. It can also be found on my ff.net account BlazingSkittles15.

Percy put the bag of flour on the counter and Annabeth watched as a cloud of flour rose from the bag from the impact. It sprinkled his hair and as he rubbed his forehead, faint splotches of white powder stuck to his skin.

“We haven’t even started yet and you’re already covered in flour,” Annabeth said, small chuckles making her voice light and happy.

Percy looked down at his hands and waved dismissively. “The messier you get, the better it tastes. It’s a culinary fact.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes as a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t think so.”

“It totally is.”

A mischievous glint lit up his eyes and he opened the top of the bag and shoved his hand in. He pulled it out and in a clenched fist was at least half a cup of flour. He spread his arms out wide and flashed his signature trouble maker smile.

Annabeth’s eyes widened. “Percy, don’t!”

He brought his hands together and instantly, all Annabeth could see was white. She squeezed her eyes shut and coughed a few times. She could hear Percy laughing and she imagined him bent over, hugging his stomach.

She wiped her eyes and when she opened them, she saw that the front of Percy, from head to toe, was covered in the white powder. He had calmed down at this point, his cackles relaxing into light chuckles, and his fists were on his hips in pride. He held his chin up and a large smirk stretched across his face. His sea green eyes gleamed humorously, looking brighter than usual against his now pure white face.

“You better thank me, Chase,” he said. “These cupcakes are going to be the best you’ll ever have.”

She looked around the kitchen and saw that the counter was completely white and that the floor, even leading up to the doorway (how’d he manage to get it so far?) was slippery with the stuff. She threw her hands up in annoyance and groaned.

“Yeah, and it’s gonna be the dirtiest kitchen I’ll ever have, too.” She began patting her shirt down and more flour sprinkled down to the floor.

He laughed and said, “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up when we’re done.” He looked around the kitchen and whistled. “I really did a number, here.”

“And you’re doing it _alllll_ yourself,” Annabeth chirped.

Percy sighed. “Fair enough.” He stretched his neck forward to catch a glimpse of the recipe book next to Annabeth. “What else do we need?”

She looked down at the book. “Have you grabbed the milk yet?”

Percy walked over to the refrigerator, opened it, and grabbed the milk jug. “Uh oh.”

“What?”

“Expiration says it went bad like two days ago.” Annabeth looked at him as he uncapped it and smelled it. His face instantly warped into one of pure agony. His neck tensed and a vein on his forehead swelled. His eyes watered as he took it away from his face and leaned forward to dry heave and sputtered, “Oh _gods_ that is – _hurk_ – that is _foul_.”

Annabeth smiled and she bit her lip to keep herself from laughing. “Didn’t you eat cereal last night?”

She didn’t think it were possible for his face to look any whiter than it did under all of the flour, but he proved her wrong. His face paled and he groaned. “Noooooo...”

Annabeth looked back at the recipe book and sighed. “Well, we need these cupcakes for Estelle’s party tomorrow morning, so…”

“I’ll run down to the 7-11 around the corner to pick up more.”

Annabeth plucked the milk jug cap from his hand and put it back on. She took the jug from him and put it down on the counter to dump later. “I’ll clean up while you’re gone.”

He stood back up straight and said, “You don’t have to do that.”

She shrugged. “Going to the store at midnight is just as much of a punishment. I should be done by the time you’re back.”

Percy turned around and headed for the door. “All right. I’ll probably be back in ten minutes.”

As he reached for the door handle, she said, “Percy, wait.” He looked over his shoulder. “You have flour all over you.”

He smirked and wiped his face. “Better?” There were still streaks lining his forehead and cheeks.

She smiled. “Better.”

\-- -- --

It had been forty-five minutes since he left.

The store was just around the corner from them. Five minutes maximum to walk there, including the time it takes to walk out of their apartment building. Another five to walk back. Shouldn’t take any more than twelve minutes altogether. So where in Hades was he?

She tried calling his emergency cell to see if he had brought it with him, but no luck. It was shut off and went straight to voicemail. She imagined that it was still in his nightstand drawer.

She looked at the clock. 12:43. She found her hand in her pocket, playing with a drachma that it had found in there. Should she Iris message him? They rigged a light in the bathroom to catch the shower head spray just right so it could create a rainbow whenever they needed it. It wouldn’t be difficult.

Or was she just worrying too much?

A knock sounded against her door and she let out a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding. She walked up to the door and as she began opening it, she said, “Took you long enough, Seaweed Brain! I guess you forgot your-” When she opened the door, she was greeted by two police men standing in the doorway. “-keys?”

“Is this the residence of Mr. Perseus Jackson?” the one on the right – the taller and skinnier of the two – asked. The nametag on his uniform said that his last name was Ramirez.

Annabeth attempted to swallow the lump in her throat. What did they think he did this time? Kill an old lady? _Two_ old ladies? Blow up a bus?

Well, actually, that one’s believable.

She furrowed her eyebrows and clutched the side of the door. “Yes?”

“Are you his wife?” the other one – Hunt – asked. They looked awfully sad. Their eyes looked wet and hollow – not something you’d typically see when someone is a suspect in a crime. Her heart started pounding in her chest.

“N…no. I’m his fiancée. What’s going on?”

Hunt shuffled and awkwardly looked down at the ground to avoid Annabeth’s gaze. Ramirez looked like he was swallowing a lump in his throat as he reached for something in his back pocket.

“I’m really sorry that we have to tell you this,” Ramirez said. “But your fiancé was hit by a car in front of the 7-11 on 3rd.” Annabeth’s vision began to blur and she felt her eyes widen. “The paramedics seem to think that he passed away on impact.”

If she weren’t clutching the door so hard that her knuckles were white, Annabeth was sure that she would have stumbled back a few feet. Her heart was beating so hard that she could feel it throughout her entire body. “We grabbed his personal belongings,” Ramirez continued, as he pulled a wallet out of his back pocket.

“This was the only thing we found.” The last thing she wanted to do was let go of the door and grab it. It couldn’t be his. Hit by a car? No. It had to be someone else’s. She and her neighbors always got each other’s mail. It was probably just another mix up. Then she realized that she was basically wishing for the death of one of her neighbors. She also realized, almost disgustedly, that she didn’t care.

But Ramirez’s voice echoed in her head, _“Is this the residence of Mr. Perseus Jackson?”_

Her throat tightened and her stomach twisted in knots. Gods, she was going to be sick.

With a shaky hand, she reached out for the wallet and slowly pulled it out of Ramirez’s hand.

It looked like Hunt was about to open his mouth to say something, but Annabeth closed the door before he could.

She looked at the wallet in her hands and opened it. Sure enough, it was Percy’s license in there, showing his name and address. A picture of the two of them fell out, uncovering another picture of him, Sally, Paul, and Estelle. Annabeth recognized it from Estelle’s third birthday party two years ago.

The drachma suddenly grew heavy in her pocket. Oh gods. Oh _gods_.

How was she going to tell Sally?

She continued staring down at the picture and her face grew hot with rage. Her hands balled into fists, the wallet still in her palms, and she threw it as hard as she could across the apartment.

How could this happen? After all they’ve been through? After all they’d done for the gods? They aren’t even offered the _slightest_ bit of protection? They put their lives on the line multiple times for those immortal bastards and they couldn’t even protect Percy from a _car?_ A godsdamn _car?_

She took the drachma out of her pocket and began flipping it in her fingers. Would Sally even be awake? Noting the irony of her previous cursing of them, she sent a silent prayer to the gods that she was asleep. She needed more time to think about it, but she couldn’t _not_ tell Sally, either.

The room spun. Gods, this was actually happening. She took one last look at the drachma and trudged towards the bathroom.

Growing up as a demigod, you’re taught how fragile your life is. How quickly it can end, so you train, trying to prevent the inevitable. And yet, despite all that, you end up forgetting just how fragile it all is. How one minute you can be here, laughing, and the next you’re just another story on the news, just a memory to those around you, because of something as stupid as a car. Not even a godsdamn monster. Just a _car_. Because they needed _milk_ for _cupcakes_. He couldn’t have had a more normal death if he tried and all Annabeth could think of was how big of a slap in the face it was.

Just because you’re a demigod doesn’t mean that the only way you can go out is by the claw or fist of a myth. Annabeth supposed she needed to be reminded of that, but…not like this. Any other way would have done. A broken leg during a ski trip. A concussion by tripping down stairs. Hell, getting stranded in the mountains after a plane crash would’ve been better.

She started calculating all the things she could have done beforehand to stop this. All the things she could still do to get him back, even if it meant ripping his soul from Elysium and bringing it back. She was _not_ losing him, not after everything he’s been through, after everything _they’ve_ been through.

She walked into the bathroom, turned the shower on, and then the light that was strategically placed to create a rainbow. When one appeared, she flipped the drachma into it and, with a raspy, broken voice, she said, “Sally Jackson.”

Suddenly, Sally and Paul appeared in front of her. They were sitting on a couch, a bowl of popcorn in between them. The glow of the T.V. illuminated their faces. Sally was chewing on some popcorn and Paul looked like he had dozed off, his hand still in the bowl. Sally jumped and looked like she nearly choked on popcorn. Paul abruptly snored in response to her sudden movement. Sally quickly muted the T.V. and looked at Annabeth with confused eyes.

“Annabeth?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

The shock of it all was finally wearing off and her eyes began to sting. She blinked once, twice, and tears finally fell down her flushed cheeks.

Sally’s eyes widened. “Annabeth?”

He was supposed to be her something permanent.


End file.
